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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099728">Lambs of Slaughter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyburning/pseuds/saltyburning'>saltyburning</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Jessica Moore, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, I can’t write summaries but I swear that destiel happens and that the feels are abound, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:15:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyburning/pseuds/saltyburning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is dead and Jess is left with a choice. She can return to her normal life, or she can look into just what happened that night on November 2, 2005. </p><p>Meanwhile, God plans to wipe out nearly all universes. Two brothers and an angel debate how to save their family from the oncoming apocalypse. </p><p>Jess might just cross paths with some people who are almost familiar. And they all might learn from each other- about family, love, and sacrifice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore &amp; Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic is basically just a way for me to grow with writing (cough cough as well as type out my daydreams cough)- I’m aware that I’m not the best, but I’m hoping that writing outside of my comfort zone like this will help me improve! And hey, maybe it’ll turn out to be something I’m proud of! It has been very fun to write so far (aka, I haven’t slept in weeks, send help).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Dean</span><br/>
<span class="u">November 2, 2005</span>
</p><p>The Impala rumbled to a stop. AC/DC played on the radio but the lyrics seemed muffled and distant, as if they were being sang from behind a closed door. Dean took in a deep breath and turned his head toward the window to face his brother. He searched Sam’s eyes, looking for the one answer he knew he wasn’t going to get. </p><p>Sam just smiled carefully, patting the car door and waking away into the darkness. Panic leapt to Dean’s throat, though he wasn’t sure why. “Sam?” He leaned back in his seat, fighting to keep his voice steady. </p><p>Sam turned around, eyes wide in a questioning expression. Almost a guilty one. Dean’s gut twisted as he said, “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” He let the unspoken request hang in the air. </p><p>“Yeah.” Sam’s eyes shuttered. Dean knew that his silent answer would never be revoked. </p><p>Dean accepted the denial and shifted the car out of park. He drove away, but couldn’t help glancing in his mirror to see Sam standing in front of the apartment, staring after him. Images of their childhood rose in front of him, those memories of that same face looking up at him in the same way when their dad hadn’t come home after a week. A bitter taste formed in his mouth. </p><p>He circled the block. Parked in the same spot again. Sam was gone. Dean’s hand hovered over the key for just a moment before twisting it and sliding it out of the ignition. Without thinking, he was stepping outside, into the cold and starless night. He reached the apartment within a couple strides and then somehow he was standing outside of a door. </p><p>Sam’s door. The one barrier dividing them. All the things Dean had wanted to say rushed to his mind. He could apologize for never calling all this time Sam was at Stanford. He could tell him how proud he was, even when their dad wasn’t. He could explain that the reason it took so long for him to ask for help with finding John was because he was afraid of what Sam might think of him. Afraid that Sam didn’t need a brother anymore. </p><p>But even if Sam didn’t need one, Dean did. Dean needed <em>his</em> brother. He made a fist and raised it to knock. </p><p>A woman screamed, high-pitched and terrified. All thoughts drained out of his mind and were replaced by cold panic. That was Sam’s girlfriend. Sam was in danger. </p><p>He grabbed the doorknob with two sweaty hands and tried to turn, but his grip kept on slipping off. Locked. Terror turned his vision red and cloudy. He took a step back and then rammed his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. </p><p>He took in a gasping breath, preparing himself. He grit his teeth and threw all his weight onto it. Something inside the lock cracked and the door swung open. Startled, he fell into the room and landed on his side on the floor, head spinning. He scrambled to his feet. He looked up and stopped breathing. </p><p>Sam. Pinned to the wall of his living room, arms spread out like a bird’s wings. His head lolled towards his shoulder, floppy hair sticking to his face with glistening sweat. A small decorative cross hung above him. </p><p>A sickening feeling lurched up through Dean’s throat as he caught sight of blood dripping down the wall in the darkness. He stepped closer. It was coming from Sam. </p><p>A wound, wider and deeper than any knife could cut, split through Sam’s stomach. It stained his clothes black. It spilled onto the floor. </p><p>Dean tore his eyes away to look at his brother’s face again. Sam’s mouth was open in a silent scream, cheeks red and blotchy like they got whenever he had a fever. His wide eyes were glazed over with pain, darting frantically. Dull and wild like an animal’s. </p><p>Dean could have fallen into oblivion, staring dumbly at Sam’s dying gaze, but he was startled awake as he heard someone collapse to the floor and wail, “Sam!” Dean’s head turned involuntarily and he caught sight of the blond girl he had hardly noticed before. She sobbed, kneeling on the ground in her white nightdress as if in prayer, shaking violently. </p><p>Her nearly inhuman cries were enough to jolt him out of his daze. He stumbled forward like an undead creature, hand reached out towards his brother. </p><p>He didn’t get within a step before Sam went up in flames. An explosion of brightness and burning pain expanded everywhere like a dying star. Dean was kicked backwards by the gust of hot air and flung across the room. He crashed onto his back and hit his skull on the floor with a sharp <em>crack</em>. Fire consumed his vision. He closed his eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter will be up very soon- I already have it (and a few others) typed out! This one was super short but I promise the next will be much longer. Perspectives will change, but they’ll be indicated at the beginning of each chapter. This is gonna be a long fic but it’ll also be a fun way for me to track my progress and something for you to read and hopefully enjoy! So, thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chipped Linoleum Tile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I might go back and fix that first chapter at some point because I low-key hate it :) </p><p>But this one’s gonna be way better because the amazing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Txeknee/profile">Txeknee</a> beta read for me! Thank you so much! </p><p>In the meantime- keep it together, Jessica Lee. You’re stronger than you look.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Jess</span><br/>
<span class="u">November 2, 2005</span>
</p><p>Jess was the one who had to save Dean from the fire. She was the one who had to pick herself up off the floor, had to not look at the wall consumed by fire, had to not cry at the loss of the life she’s built for herself. The life her and Sam built for themselves. </p><p>She left her boyfriend burning on the wall and saved his brother instead. Sam was dead. Sam was already dead. She didn’t kill him. Still, she couldn’t drive away the guilt as she dragged Dean out of the room, his arm slung around her shoulder and full weight against her. </p><p>The hallway was already dark with smoke as she stumbled towards the exit. Her throat burned with it. She couldn’t feel her arms and all her blood was rushing to her face with adrenaline. It was as if everything were unreal. Haze filled her mind just as it did the building. </p><p>Nobody made a move to help her. She staggered through those doors, gasping and carrying a man who was practically twice her weight, and they all just looked at her with sympathetic expressions painted on masks. People in neighboring buildings peeked their heads out of windows to watch the excitement. Some gathered around the base of her apartment, as if this were some kind of show. </p><p>Rage burned in her chest, more painful than the damage fire could ever do. <em>Doesn’t anyone care at all?</em> </p><p>Smoke hung thick in the air. She choked on it, almost dropping Dean as she gagged. Red and blue lights flashed against the golden glow of the fire. The paramedics loaded Dean onto an ambulance, shouting words she couldn’t understand to each other. A laugh bubbled up in Jess’s chest and she quickly swallowed it down. Fear was setting in after being delayed for so long. </p><p>In movies, paramedics were supposed to comfort the people in the disaster. Here, in the real world, they just did their job. Focused. Not cold- they just had to save somebody. Jess respected them for that. She didn’t need compassion, she needed something to be done. </p><p>They seemed to assume Dean was her boyfriend. She didn’t correct them. She got to ride in the ambulance with him. The last piece of her Sam. </p><p>She didn’t look back as she boarded the ambulance. Their apartment would remain an object in the background, something standing behind her that she could never see. In her mind she could hear Sam crying for her to save him, to <em>help</em> him. It was just in her mind. It was all just in her mind. </p><p>She forbade herself from thinking about Sam on the ride to the hospital. The most important thing right now was her ability to keep it together. <em>What am I doing? Why am I doing this?</em> The vehicle jolted as they went over a pot hole and the paramedics cursed under their breath about the new driver. Little droplets of rain splattered against the window. The clouds in the sky reflected the fire, even though their apartment was far out of sight. Dean lay unconscious on a stretcher, his burns being carefully tended to. Nobody spoke with Jess. She lifted her chin. She had to distract herself from whatever the hell just happened. People don’t just combust into flame, people don’t just defy gravity. Trembles started to run down her spine. She didn’t feel anything. Her cheeks were wet. She didn’t feel anything. </p><p>The ambulance came to a gentle stop. A pause, then only more chaos. Everything happened in flashes. More lights, blue and red and flickering white, reflected off of damp pavement. Doors swinging open. Walking into a wave of brightness and the overpowering smell of chemicals. People rushing around, everything spinning. She couldn’t breathe. </p><p>Someone grabbed her shoulder roughly. She wanted to scream. She glanced up, terrified of what she’d see. </p><p>An older woman with brown, wrinkled skin and bags under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days stood steadily in front of her. Gray hairs twined themselves through the black. She looked at her with the most intense eyes Jess had ever seen. “Are you okay?” Her voice was rough. She sounded like she was a smoker. </p><p>Jess’s mouth hung open. She couldn’t react. The woman seemed to understand, and softened her gaze. “Restroom’s a few steps down the hall behind you. Wash yourself up, you look like you’ve just seen hell. Your boy’s in room number B109.” She brushed past her and disappeared. </p><p>Jess stood in the hallway for a few seconds, processing. One of the fluorescent lights overhead was flickering every few seconds. People cried in blue padded chairs. Phones rang. Jess breathed. She turned around, took a few strides, and pushed open the door labeled “Women’s”. </p><p>The bathroom was nice. Nobody was in there but her. The fan’s buzzing white noise soothed her. The burning smell of bleach overpowered the smoke lingering in her hair. The lighting was cold and detached. For some reason, she had the odd thought that maybe this stark-white public restroom was meant to be so peaceful. </p><p>She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and jumped, heart about to beat out of her chest. Someone stood in front of her, a disaster of a person. All pale skin and running mascara, as if she were a drunk girl hiding at a party. </p><p>It was a mirror. Jess leaned forward and didn’t try to stifle her giggle. She was a total mess. Had she looked like this the whole time? </p><p>She regretted not taking off her makeup as soon as she had gotten home. She was so excited to see Sam returning from his trip that she forgot- </p><p>She forgot. Sam died. Sam is dead. Sam’s never coming back. Wide, blue eyes stared at her through the mirror. They looked haunted, old. They weren’t hers. </p><p>She tore her gaze away and looked down. Her blue slippers with smiling bear faces on them stood out against the bright white of the cheaply tiled floor. It was almost ridiculous. She was still wearing her nightgown. She became aware of the chill against her arms. </p><p>Quickly, she splashed some water on her face, not bothering to glance at her reflection. The mascara was probably still there, but she didn’t need to care about that. She didn’t need to care about anything. Was this bravery or hopelessness? </p><p>Her slippers squeaked as she slid out of the bathroom and headed down the hall to room B109. Feeling more put together than she likely actually was, she shoved all her thoughts to the back of her mind once more and entered. </p><p>“Miss, you can’t be in here.” A guy began to say, reaching towards her. A hand held him back. </p><p>The lady from earlier, again to her rescue. “Let her stay. She won’t disrupt anything, <em>right?</em>” Her tone turned into a warning on the last word and she looked at Jess out of the corner of her eye. </p><p>“Of course not.” Jess’s voice wavered against her will. When was the last time she talked? </p><p>The doctor nodded. “You can sit there.” She motioned to an uncomfortable-looking chair and Jess took the seat. The chair slouched down too far, putting her back at a twisted angle. She didn’t move. </p><p>Doctors and nurses bustled around her, coming and going, rarely offering her a single glance. Jess kept her mind blank. She kept her eyes focused on a chip in the linoleum tile in front of her. Her arms shivered and she refused to notice. </p><p>She expected herself to fall asleep at some point, with all the monotonous movement and the slow sounds of machines humming, papers flipping, soft murmurs of people outside the room. But her eyes remained glued open. Her foot twitched every thirty seconds- she kept count. </p><p>The nurse stopped by again to tell her that Dean had a concussion and a few minor burns, but he should be able to leave tomorrow. He said alerting anybody if he wakes up wasn’t necessary, unless he’s in some form of danger. He gave her instructions on what to do for him once they get home. She didn’t try to remember them. The nurse left. There was nobody in the room but Jess and an unconscious man who was nearly a stranger to her. </p><p>Her eyes felt like they were glazing over, and she idly wondered how long it had been since she blinked. The big rectangular lights in the ceiling changed color if she squinted enough. She picked at the hem of her nightdress. </p><p>The beeping from the machine changed pace a bit. Jess tapped her foot to match it’s rhythm. Someone groaned. </p><p>The sound took a while to register in her tired mind. She sat frozen in place as her mind raced to catch up, then a jolt went through her and she leapt to her feet. She stumbled over to the side of Dean’s bed and leaned towards him cautiously. </p><p>His eyes fluttered open. She considered tapping his face, but he seemed to be waking up quick enough. He looked at her, gaze clouded from the concussion. She looked back, standing next to him uncertainly. </p><p>Dean coughed and struggled to push himself backwards to sit up. Jess reached out a hand in an attempt to steady him, but he waved it away. “Where’m I?” He croaked. His words ran together enough that Jess had to take a moment to decipher them. </p><p>“A hospital.” She supplied after a beat. </p><p>“No shit.” Dean rolled his eyes. They were bloodshot. “Which one?” </p><p>Jess paused for another moment and realized that she didn’t know. In all the panic, she hadn’t been able to pay attention to where was. There were a few hospitals nearby her apartment, but she had never been to any of them. Until now, that is. “I don’t know.” She shrugged simply. She probably looked terrified. She didn’t feel terrified. She just felt cold. </p><p>Dean mumbled something and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Jess managed to register it as “Aight, get me outta’ here.” He ripped the IV out of his arm with a wince and Jess snapped into awareness. </p><p>“What? You can’t leave. The nurse said to wait until morning.” Was this an emergency situation? Should she call for help? Could he just walk out? </p><p>“Well, is it morning yet?” </p><p>Jess hadn’t looked at a clock since she got here. It hadn’t even occurred to her. She could have been here hours or days. Maybe she’s been here an eternity. Maybe she’s been here forever and this is all there ever was. She decided not to voice any of these thoughts. Instead, she just blinked and said, meekly, “I don’t know.” </p><p>“Loads of help, you are.” Dean said under his breath, pushing himself to his feet and standing on wobbly legs. The white sheets tried to tangle around his ankles and he clumsily shook them off. He picked up the large plastic bag at his feet and dug out a flip phone, eyes widening as he opened it. </p><p>Jess didn’t have the energy to snap at him for his remark. She shuffled over so she was standing in front of him, neck craned up to look at him. She was well aware of her sad state. “What do I do?” The question fell out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. </p><p>Dean looked uneasy for a second, then his eyebrows knit together and his mouth twisted. “Tell you what. I’ll check out like a good little citizen- you didn’t use my full name, did you?” She nodded her head hesitantly. She didn’t know he wanted to stay hidden. The hospital asked if he needed other emergency contacts to be alerted and she said yes. Maybe he didn’t want to see them. He just sighed and continued. “I’ll check out and leave and never come back. You- you go visit you parents. Cry to them and whatever, then keep living your life. Capiche?” </p><p>He tried to brush past her but now it was Jess’s well-earned turn to be angry. She shoved herself in front of him again. “I don’t want to cry, I want answers. What the hell <em>was</em> that?” </p><p>“Nothing you need to care about.” </p><p>“Nothing I need to care about?” Her voice rose loud enough to squeak. Dean winced. A few footsteps stuttered in the hallway before walking by as quick as possible. “Sam might be your brother, but he’s my boyfriend. You’re going to tell me what’s going on, right now.” Her face felt hot and puffy. Her chest was heaving. </p><p>Dean took a step back, hands held out in front of him as if soothing a rabid dog. His demeanor only made more anger boil up in Jess, but before she could say anything, he took on a desperate expression. His eyes grew wide and pleading, a look that she hadn’t ever expected him to wear. It startled her. She was nearly certain that she could see clean through to his soul. “Everyone around me is dying and something’s wrong. You need to get out of here.” </p><p>Jess chose to ignore his strange words. “No. I want answers. That... whatever that was, that just doesn’t happen. How was Sam involved in this? I don’t even know who the fuck you are, just that he died after you two came back. This is tied to your dad, isn’t it?” Her voice shook. She didn’t know if it was from fear or rage. At the mention of his father, Dean flinched. </p><p>“I don’t want to see my dad. I don’t want to hurt him too. For all I know, he’s already dead.” His voice was soft. His eyes focused just over her shoulder, as if he weren’t even addressing her. </p><p>“What? So you did this?” Jess was splintering in half, mind frayed. The room spun. The sharp smell of chemicals and death was overpowering. </p><p>Dean stuttered. “No, no. I don’t- I don’t know. I just, it’s the same way our mom died. I don’t know where dad is, I don’t want to know. I’ll let him figure out what happened on his own.” </p><p>“Shouldn’t you be the one to tell him?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking. She was too tired, too angry to force politeness. Her lungs stung from suddenly shouting after staying so silent for so long. It felt like someone was inserting needles through them from the inside. She didn’t have the energy to cough. </p><p>“I can’t.” His head hung. He stared at her slippers and didn’t look up. In one hand he still held the giant bag, and the other had a death grip on his phone where a message in small typed letters was shown. “My uncle Bobby dropped off the Impala for me, he should be here any moment. There’s a notebook in its glovebox. All the answers you need are in there. Keys are in my coat’s right pocket.” </p><p>She grabbed the plastic bag away from him. In it was the only other belonging the doctors had removed, an oversized and worn leather jacket. As she fumbled in the pocket for the keys, she asked, “What are you saying, you want me to keep it?” </p><p>“The car? Don’t even think about touching her.” Jess almost smiled at his sudden repulsed tone. “The journal’s all yours. You need it more than I do.” </p><p>She set the bag down and gripped the keys so that they cut into her palm. The pain was grounding. “What will you do?” She felt like she knew the answer. </p><p>Dean surprised her. He sat back down on the bed. “I’m gonna sit on my ass in a hospital.” </p><p>She nodded blankly. She turned around and left. A chorus of beeping machines from the neighboring rooms seemed to follow her to the exit. Her own private parade. </p><p>She pushed open the doors and was assaulted by the feeling of dawn. Being inside the hospital felt timeless. Out here, reality came crashing back all in one single wave. </p><p>The sky was a deep blue broken up by long steaks of clouds. The air was soft and damp, like someone was spinning wool around her. Cars rumbled on the nearby road. Her slippers turned soggy as she stepped into a puddle. </p><p>She reached the Impala. It was hard to miss. It unlocked easily and she slid into the front seat. It smelled musty- oil, greasy food, and strangely enough, there was a faint smell of copper. She hoped there wasn’t any reason for that. Maybe they collected pennies. </p><p>Jess leaned over and tugged open the glovebox. And immediately shrieked. She covered her mouth frantically. A gun sat on top of a big leather journal. She reached out a trembling hand and carefully pushed it off and pulled the book out. </p><p>She remained sitting, catching her breath. The car’s door was still open. Seagulls hopped around the parking lot. She opened the notebook. </p><p>The sunrise’s light fell into her hair as she finally let herself break.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Abandon All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m eating a muffin and posting this instead of being productive. </p><p>Here we enter another world, another lifetime, one where Sam lived and Jess died.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Dean</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">December 4, 2019</span>
</p><p>Dean ambled through the bunker, bare feet sticking to the cold floor and peeling off with each heavy step. He managed to get three hours of sleep at most last night. Now his eyelids drooped as if his eyelashes had been caked in concrete. As he passed the library, he paused mid-yawn. His brother still sat at his desk, head on the table and drool steadily dripping onto the papers spread out around him. Dean sighed and walked over to him. </p><p>“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” He shook Sam’s shoulder. Sam awoke with a snort, jerking his head off the table. </p><p>“Huh? Dean, I-“ </p><p>“Yeah, whatever man.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Good morning, research freak. Want some coffee?” </p><p>“Coffee?” Sam blinked slowly at him. Dean could see the thoughts loading in his brother’s mind. “Um, sure.” </p><p>Dean patted Sam’s back and helped him up. Sometimes Sam turned into a 90’s computer when he got tired. Coffee usually did the trick to wake him up enough to be at least somewhat functional. Leave it to Sammy, world-class health nut, to develop a caffeine addiction. </p><p>They wandered into the kitchen together, where the lights were already on. They turned the room sharp and artificial, but it felt like home. An opened box of sugary cereal had been left on the counter. Dean rolled his eyes. Jack might not eat anymore, but nothing could stop him from trying to feed non-reptile-friendly foods to that snake of his. Dean decided to ignore the box, a shiver running down his back as he thought of snakes and their fangs and their tendency to slither. </p><p>Dean turned around to reach for a coffee cup, shoving all thoughts of legless creatures out of his mind. He paused with his hand half-outstretched and sighed. Sam perched on the counter, swinging his legs and sipping his coffee. Dean glared at him with the most dagger-filled look he could muster. </p><p>Sam blinked innocently. “Is something up?” </p><p>“Mind passing me a mug, Sammy?” </p><p>“Sure thing.” Sam reached behind him and pulled out a plain red cup. “Here you go.” </p><p>Dean took the cup and grumbled as he poured his coffee. “How come we can be dealing with the worst apocalypse yet, and you still manage to find ways to tick me off?” </p><p>“What did I do?” Sam sounded shocked. Dean couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. </p><p>“Sitting on the counter, Sammy. Even toddlers know not to do that. Why is it that you can’t use a chair like a normal person?” </p><p>Sam shrugged. Dean huffed, exasperated. Sometimes his little brother could be the most mature person he’s ever met, and sometimes it seemed like he hadn’t changed since he were five years old. </p><p>Nobody made a comment. The room turned quiet. Mornings in the bunker were always so cold and silent- which is why Dean did his best to fill them with laughter and pancakes and whatever else aligned with his idea of the perfect family. The smell of coffee was supposed to be a warm and comforting one, but it usually ended up as harsh and lonely. </p><p>Dean realized he was clenching his jaw. He took a sip out of his mug and winced at the burnt flavor. Cas must’ve made it early that morning. He swallowed it down quickly. “So,” he began, leaning against the stove. “Find anything?” </p><p>Sam nodded a beat after he normally would’ve. <em>Not good news, then.</em> Dean pursed his lips. Sam set his mug down with a <em>clink</em>. “There’s no fighting back.” Dean’s stomach dropped as Sam continued. He fought to keep his face blank. “It’s God, the literal God- we might have Jack but he’s just a kid and nowhere near strong enough. Chuck’s destroying all universes, and ours is next.” </p><p>Dean locked his eyes on a fleck of dirt on the floor. Sam’s voice sounded warped. The bunker felt miles away, as if Dean were floating through the air- or rather, plummeting down, down, down. He cleared his throat. “So what? We give up, and that’s it?” </p><p>“No,” Sam said quietly. “We run.” </p><p>Dean almost laughed. “Where? If you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly have a rocket ship on hand.” </p><p>“We have Jack.” </p><p>His blood froze. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “You want to use a kid- who, by the way, doesn’t know how his own powers really work- to hop across universes, when nobody knows where we’ll end up. Sammy, I thought I had taught you how to gamble.” </p><p>Sam lifted his chin, but his eyes were dull. “It’s our only choice.” </p><p>“Bullshit.” Dean spat. </p><p>Sam didn’t say anything. Water rumbled through the pipes overhead. Dean could practically hear the mold growing around them. He stared at his feet and contemplated putting socks on. </p><p>“Dean.” Sam’s voice shook, just enough to be noticeable. Dean couldn’t help but lift his gaze to look his little brother in the eye. Sam’s whole body seemed limp, the skin under his eyes dragged down and weepy. </p><p>Sam was right. There wasn’t a choice, not when Dean had to protect his family. “Okay,” Dean said softly, dipping his head. “I’ll go talk to Cas.” </p><p>He left the cold room, the leaky pipes, and the trembling man behind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a short chapter again, just because I want to have a chapter with more focus on Dean and Cas. I’m so sorry- I’m personally not a big fan of short chapters but I was excited to get this out. I am actually really proud of this one (though, as writing goes, I will hate it within two minutes of posting it :p)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Carry On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Sometimes, carrying on, just carrying on, is the superhuman achievement." <br/>- Albert Camus </p><p>
  <strike>I actually don’t know anything about that quote, I just wanted something to fill this space.</strike>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Jess</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">November 3, 2005</span>
</p><p>She took a bus back to the apartment, not wanting to walk for however long the distance was. She had left the keys inside the Impala- let Dean figure that one out. Or Bobby. She hadn’t told Dean that she knew who Bobby was nor that he had visited Sam many times. Although a bit gruff, he was a very kind man and always complimented her cooking, even when it was burnt to the point of being almost inedible. He vaguely reminded her of Sam. They were both so private, often talking in hushed voices to each other in the living room and pretending that they hadn’t said anything as they caught sight of her eavesdropping. The one time Bobby had really opened up about his life, it was when he had compared Jess to his wife who had passed away years ago. </p><p>Sam never opened up about his life, not really. After looking through the journal, she could see why. His family was completely insane. The imprints inside her eyelids still held the image of Sam bleeding against the wall, feet off the ground, igniting into flames. She was completely insane. </p><p>The bus rumbled to a stop just as the sleeping man she was sitting next to started to tilt towards her. She carefully dodged the saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth and stood up, making her way to the front of the bus. Everyone seemed to have been awake all night. Tired and lost. </p><p>She thanked the driver and stepped off the bus. The world around her felt cloudy. It stuck to her, sunk into her skin, burrowed into her soul. </p><p>As she approached the apartment, she kept her head down, eyes on the sidewalk. Spiderweb-like cracks spread across it. Little blades of grass grew inside them, as if that were the best place in the world for them to thrive. The air still smelled of smoke. A dandelion poked its head out of a sidewalk gap. </p><p>She sighed a breath of relief as she caught a glimmer of blue out of the corner of her eye. Her car was still in the parking lot. She cut across the grass towards it, doing everything she could to keep herself from glancing up at whatever remained of her apartment. How much damage had been done? Was she allowed to recover her things? </p><p>Did she want to? </p><p>She tugged at the car door and it opened easily. This was the only time she would be relieved that she left it unlocked. Sam had insisted she keep a spare key in the glovebox- much to her displeasure. At the time it seemed stupid, like she was inviting people to commit grand theft auto. Now she wondered if Sam had predicted a situation just like this. </p><p>She slid the keys in the ignition and turned. She drove away. She didn’t look back. There was nothing left for her there. </p><p>In the rubble, inside what was once a dresser drawer, a small engagement ring shimmered. Untouched and unknown.</p><hr/><p>The diner’s bell chimed as someone entered or left. Voices murmured and laughed. Jess sat alone at a booth, bright sunlight streaming through the window and glaring into her eyes. </p><p>Her nightgown sat in a wad inside her car, visible through the window. She had changed into an oversized t-shirt and her jeans stained with wine, both found hidden in the car’s trunk. She still wore the bear slippers. Water squelched out whenever she put weight on them. Damn puddle. </p><p>Her other belongings were spread out across the table. Keys on a purple Mickey Mouse keychain. An unopened pack of expired peppermint gum. Her wallet and cash. Several plastic cards from classes- she needed them to show people she interviewed that she was a student doing research. Her phone. The journal. </p><p>Those last two objects held a choice. Her parents likely thought she was dead. Her boyfriend had been turned into kindling on their wall. </p><p>She could turn her back on all of this. Grieve, then resume life as if nothing strange had happened. But something about what Dean had said, or rather the <em>way</em> he had said it, made her feel like that would be the cheaper option. As if leaving something up to someone more capable would be a cowardly thing. It was stupid and bull-headed and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that it might be right. </p><p>She could call her parents <em>and</em> run away. A feeling worming around in her gut told her that it would only end in even more death. </p><p>She opened the notebook. </p><p>It seemed well-used. Most of the papers had turned yellow with age, were torn and taped back together, or stained enough that the words bled into each other. A good portion was written from Sam and Dean’s father’s perspective. However, some notes by others made their ways into the margins. </p><p>John called himself a “hunter”. A person who killed monsters. It was straight out of a fantasy novel. </p><p>There were some creatures she recognized diligently cataloged in it, things like vampires or werewolves. Instructions on how to kill them were written in terms simple enough that a five year old could understand. Jess vaguely wondered if that was the goal John had in mind. <em>Sam, how long have you been caught up in this?</em></p><p>Other sections of the journal were written frantically, hardly legible. In most of them, she managed to pick out the words “fire”, “yellow”, and “demon”. It was like it was written by a maniac. She forced away the thought that, maybe, it was. </p><p>“Miss, you can’t stay here if you don’t order.” A sharp voice jerked her away from the book. She looked up to see a middle-aged woman in a uniform tapping her foot impatiently. </p><p>“Oh!” Jess stumbled over her words. “I’ll have the, uh, the eggs.” </p><p>“The eggs.” The waitress peered at her over her glasses. </p><p>Jess nodded frantically, nervous at the scrutiny. She pasted on a wide smile. “Yes, thank you.” </p><p>The waitress just whistled and turned away, scribbling something down on her notepad. Jess got the feeling that she looked like a nutcase. She shook her head. Maybe she was. Seriously- her boyfriend? Killed by a literal monster? The sheer thought of it was insane. </p><p>But she had made her choice and was sticking with it. She was going to find out what happened to Sam. As she kept digging deeper, more and more was revealed about his past. It was almost as if she were talking to his ghost. </p><p>Wait, were ghosts real too?</p><hr/><p>If this had been a normal day back at college, she would’ve laughed and tossed the journal in a dumpster. But this day, this <em>week</em>, definitely wasn’t normal. So, she took the not-normal option and followed the book’s instructions. </p><p>Sam always said his family moved around a lot, but she never assumed that he had stayed in more motels than houses. The book definitely illuminated some of the strange things Sam had talked about. Fortunately for her, however, she was technically homeless, so living the Winchester way worked out. </p><p>She was traveling northeast to Nevada, but this wasn’t a trip to Vegas. If she was to understand more about her boyfriend’s strange world, then she had to reenact the hunts recorded in the journal. She found an article in the obituaries- a morbid thing to read during breakfast, by the way- that there had been several deaths in one town recently. She did some research online, where some were people claiming it was a curse. She was inclined to believe it was just an overreaction but at the same time the world seemed so different from what she had known. Who was she to say what’s true and what’s false? </p><p>Spending so much time in her car became pretty lonely. The world’s worst road trip, really. So, she bought a plant. Actually, a cactus in a pot named Harry. He was a pretty good listener, if not a little prickly. </p><p>“Okay, Harry. What do you think- find a motel somewhere or sleep in the car?” </p><p>Harry wobbled silently in his seat, strapped by a seatbelt. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” She focused back on the road, squinting through the sunset’s light glaring off the pavement. </p><p>Having something to narrate to, even if that something was more focused on photosynthesis than communication, was very helpful in getting her thoughts together. Besides, in college she had read that keeping a plant improves moods. </p><p>College. She hadn’t really thought about that. She never did say goodbye to her friends. Everyone she had ever known was still there, but unreachable. </p><p>Her arms twitched. She felt a pull deep in her chest, like a string tied tightly around her heart was tugging at her to go back. She could do a U-turn right now. It would be so easy to go home. A tear slid down her cheek. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white and didn’t wipe it away. </p><p>The sun dipped behind a mountain and stained the world dark red.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A bit of a different structure here! Also, I ended up cutting this chapter in half and shifting the rest over to a future chapter. I felt like it wouldn’t really match the theme, you know? </p><p>I like to think of Jess as just slightly unhinged. I mean, she dated Sam, how could she not be?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Antiques Hidden Under Newspapers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let’s pretend the dates line up for canon. S15 got a bit confusing and I did try to figure it out, but if it’s off just... suspend your disbelief.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">December 4, 2019</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">Dean</span>
</p><p>“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted as he walked into the storage room. “Uh, what’re you doing?” </p><p>Castiel was balanced on a wobbly wooden stool, sifting his hands through boxes as if searching for something. “Trying to save the world, what are you doing?” Even with Cas’s back to him Dean could tell the words were said with a grin. He couldn’t smile back. </p><p>“Just got up. Had some coffee- you make it?” </p><p>“No, Jack did.” Cas stepped off the stool and turned around to face Dean. “Is something wrong?” </p><p>“No. I mean- yeah. Where’s Jack right now?” </p><p>“He was researching with Sam for hours, so we insisted he take a break. He’s in his room rewatching Star Wars again.” </p><p>Dean couldn’t help but snort. He hoped that Jack picked up his avid rewatching of movies from him. The day almost felt like another regular weekend. He looked at Cas’s shoes as his smile faded. They were black and covered in dust. </p><p>“So, something <em>is</em> wrong, then.” Dean’s head snapped up at Cas’s worried tone. </p><p>“No, no- well, maybe, I-“ he fumbled over his words. </p><p>“Dean.” Cas stepped towards him. If it weren’t for the softness in his eyes, Dean would have thought he were the soldier of Heaven he once was, all sharp metal and blinding grace. “Dean, tell me what’s going on.” </p><p>Dean’s shoulders fell in defeat, or maybe it was comfort. “Sam thinks that we should ask Jack to um, open a tear or portal or whatever it is. So we can escape.” </p><p>Cas hesitated a moment before melting is face into sympathy and nodding. “I think it could be a good option.” He searched Dean’s eyes. Dean wanted to punch him. “We’re a family, you yourself have said it. A family is something to protect.” </p><p>“Don’t you think it’s <em>wrong</em>? To save yourself but not the world around you?” Dean blurted out before he could stop himself. He immediately pressed his lips together in embarrassment, but didn’t take his words back. </p><p>Cas blinked up at him. Sometimes it felt like his gentlest gaze could tear open his chest, wrap around his heart, burn him to ashes. Sometimes Dean pretended not to remember that it could. </p><p>Cas didn’t do any of those things, but it felt like he did. Dean tried to hide his confusion when he responded, as if it were the easiest thing he could have ever said, “I am saving my world.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Cas is an eldritch horror change my mind. </p><p>I <em>really</em> didn’t like how canon went about how Dean viewed Jack, but this isn’t even the canon universe so that has been thrown out the metaphorical window. If I could throw it out the physical one, I would. </p><p>This is yet another short chapter. Am I angry at myself for that? Yes. Am I too tired to add more to this? Also yes. It’s past midnight and a bell is ringing in the wind. Stupid wind. </p><p>Oh, but I am pretty proud of that title! Nifty, eh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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